


Magical Realism

by Inspectre



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspectre/pseuds/Inspectre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Les Miserables/Harry Potter universe crossover AU.  The characters of Les Miserables as wizards in 19th century Britain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blood Will Out

**Author's Note:**

> Cracky discussions with Les Mis fans at 4am about “What Hogwarts Houses would Les Amis be in?” result in cracky crossover fanfic ideas. Camp Nano results in them actually getting written. Even so, I make no promises about the speed of updates, I need to get some writing discipline going on!
> 
> Con crit welcomed and any comments gratefully appreciated.

The first of September dawned bright and clear. Several hundred families made their way to King’s Cross Station in an annual tradition that somehow went strangely unnoticed by the majority of London’s inhabitants. A new school year was about to start and trunks full of uniforms and textbooks packed high on squeaking luggage trolleys were wheeled through the station to the accompaniment of mothers sniffling into handkerchiefs as their little darlings prepared to set off for school once again.

Among those making their way to the area between platforms nine and ten was a sullen looking boy, small and curly haired, and dressed entirely in black clothing. He was accompanied by an elderly gentleman, whose pontificating he seemed to be ignoring, despite the accompanying animated gestures of the cane that the old man carried.

This was Marius Pontmercy, eleven years old, and about to start his first term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Blasted muggles everywhere! I don’t know why they haven’t installed a Floo portal inside the platform so we wouldn’t have to deal with this uncivilised pushing and bustling. Or for that matter having to come out in non-magical society at all! Far better in my day when we all made our own way to Hogwarts!” the older gentleman, his grandfather, grumbled loudly. So loudly in fact that some of the aforementioned muggles may even have overheard, but with words like “muggles”, “Floo portal” and “Hogwarts”, they likely dismissed it as senile ravings. Strange old men in eccentric outfits spouting nonsense words were hardly a rarity in London after all.

Not a word came in response to these rantings from his young companion either, regardless of how the older gentleman tried to draw him out with his crotchety prattle. Indeed, Marius did not say a word to his grandfather on their entire journey through the station, beyond the barrier on to the magically concealed platform and, even as he was stepping on to the Hogwarts Express to head away to school for the next several months, his composure did not crack one iota.

His silence had, in his mind, very good reason. There are, after all, only so many ways in which one can express extreme displeasure at the tender age of eleven. And Marius had a lot of displeasure to express. Some weeks ago, he had come into the possession of certain facts which challenged all that he had been told by the grandfather who had raised him from babyhood.

Over the years, Marius had grown up idolising his grandfather, something which had not been altogether uncultivated by that august personage. The two of them lived alone, apart from a manservant and a house elf, in a suburb of London, home to many wizarding families, so that they could be “among their own people” as the respectable Mr Gillenormand put it. There they stayed for the most part, excepting occasional visits to their equally respectable neighbours. The house and garden were large enough for Marius to find plenty to occupy himself and, for anything else he might need, his grandfather was more than able to provide. Mr Gillenormand was in possession of not inconsiderable fortune, belonging to an ancient if not particularly notable wizarding dynasty, and considered himself to be possessed of wisdom to match said fortune, believing himself to be an expert in most matters and wasting no time in informing others of that fact. As such, Marius had grown up around rather old-fashioned ways and ideas and, predisposed to being in favour with his grandfather, had accepted them with little thought. Mr Gillenormand could be something of a terror to a small boy – while never cruel, he had a severe tone of voice, which, even if it were not entirely serious, often frightened young Marius. As such, Marius found it to be conducive to an easier life if he simply attempted to keep in his grandfather’s good graces by being agreeable to him in all matters.

This extended to doing his best to suppress the natural curiosity of an orphan. He had little memory of his parents, therefore he was reliant on what information his grandfather and guardian, Mr Gillenormand, chose to supply. Of that man’s own daughter, Marius’ mother, he was unfailingly effusive of her beauty, kindness, and magical talent. 

But Marius’ father? He was “a brigand, and a scoundrel!” and little more was ever said. 

That was, until one afternoon, a matter of months ago when his grandfather had sent Marius to the study in search of a letter from his elder daughter, Marius’ aunt. The desk was tidy. Evidently the house elf, Nicolette, had been in and sorted all of the correspondence, leaving the large teak writing desk clear of any papers. As a house elf, Nicolette was not allowed a wand, and therefore the desk drawer had not been magically locked again after she had finished tidying. Marius, as a reasonably resourceful young man, saw no reason not to open the drawer and commence searching for the letter, figuring that it would likely be near the top of one. 

Alas for Mr. Gillenormand, it was not, and Marius, aiming to please, continued in his quest. Until, that is, his eyes alighted on his own name right at the bottom of a page. In grandfather’s handwriting. Who had he been writing to that he would mention Marius? And what had he been saying about him? Expecting some fluff for his ego in the form of Gillenormand boasting about his magically talented grandson who had not even started Hogwarts yet and who could already cast simple spells, Marius’ curiosity pushed him to slide the letter out from the desk.

“Yes I did see the story in the Prophet about Marius’ father and…”

His father? What had that mysterious person done that would warrant him having been reported in the press? Marius’ heart sank. His grandfather had always spoken the worst of Pontmercy Senior. What if he had been protecting Marius from the knowledge that his father had done something hideous before he died? What if he had been in Azkaban?! His grandfather must have kept all mention of him locked away in this desk for years. Marius was terrified, but at the same time, he had to know the truth. 

Scrabbling around underneath for the next page of the letter in search of why Grandfather was talking about, Marius found a torn out page of newspaper.

It was a page of the Daily Prophet, the very one to which the letter had referred, perhaps included in the letter to which Grandfather had been replying. The headline read “Hero Ministry Auror Killed In Dark Wizard Battle”. The article began “Tributes were paid yesterday to Georges Pontmercy, prominent Auror and well-known figure in the Bonaparte Ministry administration, killed two days ago while defending muggles during an attack by the fugitive dark wizard Owle Bullock and his followers”. While he had not heard of anyone else by the name Pontmercy before, he might almost have dismissed this as a coincidence featuring a distant relative, were it not for having already found the letter that mentioned this article. Was it true then? Was this his father?

Marius was confused. While his grandfather had never told him exactly what it was that his father had done, surely his father couldn’t have been an Auror?! Marius had always been told that his father was a rogue, a reprobate, who had somehow charmed the heart of Mr Gillenormand’s beautiful and wonderful darling daughter, the light of his life. How was this possible?

And then, matters became even more complicated as Marius checked the date of the article.

May 13th….of this year?!

His father had died this year. His father had been alive until this year. 

Marius did not know how long he stood there reading and re-reading the same page, still unable to quite believe what he was reading. Unable to reconcile any of what he had read with what he had always believed about his father based on all of the hints he had been able to glean. So utterly stunned was he that he did not hear the door to the study open or notice the presence of his grandfather until his name was spoken, then repeated in a puzzled tone when he failed to answer. Only then did Marius raise his head, showing eyes shining with tears, and tried to keep his voice steady as he quietly stated the damning facts he had discovered.

“My father was alive….My father was alive and you didn’t tell me.”

His grandfather did not reply immediately. He had merely come to tell the lad that dinner was almost ready and check if he had found what he had been sent to fetch. That Marius had uncovered the truth of this matter was not something he had expected of an idle Thursday evening, and certainly was something Mr Gillenormand was rather unprepared for.

Eventually, he had gathered himself together enough to try and form some words. “Marius I….” he attempted to say. He did not get far before his grandson cut him off.

“Is it true?!”

“You were better off not knowing” the response came, confirming the facts in Gillenormand’s avoidance of a direct answer.

Marius was unable to stifle a sob at this. Somehow, as long as it was still on paper, he could have believed it was the influence of some sort of strange psychic enchantment. But now, with his grandfather’s words, he knew it to be true.

“Why? Why did I never know who he was? Why did I never know he was alive?”, his desperate pleas interspersed with sniffles as tears began to flow.

“I could not leave you to be brought up by him, and it seemed kinder to you to let you assume that he was dead. I did not want you to follow any of his examples” his grandfather answered with surprising venom that Marius did not understand. Mr Gillenormand had always trumpeted the importance of family, holding dear his elder daughter and idolising the youngest, Marius’ mother. This did not just extend to his own family either. He often held forth on how “blood will out”, and would judge a person just as quickly on who they were related to as to anything they had done of their own merit. Comments such as “He’s a Black, so no need to worry on that score” or “She’ll be good, she’s a Malfoy after all” were common from Mr Gillenormand. Family loyalty was of great importance to him and the ties of blood are strong – that was what he had always commented to visitors who praised his kindness in taking in his young grandson. With this in mind, his words and actions did not make sense to the boy they concerned.

“You couldn’t let me live with my own father? Why not?!”

“He wasn’t a good man Marius!”

“This says he was a hero!” Marius practically shrieked the final word, brandishing the page of newspaper aggressively. “He was an Auror! What could be better than that?”

Exasperated at the novelty of his grandson choosing to argue with him, Gillenormand’s face became stern as he tried to select the right wording. “He wasn’t one of our people.”

“What do you mean? Of course he was a wizard, you can’t be an Auror if you’re not a wizard!” 

Marius was still relatively innocent in the ways of Mr Gillenormand’s prejudice, though he was not to remain that way for long.

“He was barely a wizard! He was a…” Grandfather lowered his voice, as if afraid someone might hear through the walls the shameful secret he was about to impart. “He was a muggleborn Marius”

“So what?”

Now it was Mr Gillenormand’s turn to be apoplectic. “Marius, you are young and you do not understand how the world works! If we allow muggleborns into our society, Merlin only knows where it will end! Ruining good respectable pureblood families! They don’t belong in our world, they should keep to their own filthy ignorant muggle ways and not be allowed near magic. If I had had my way, your mother would never have been allowed near that Pontmercy!”

“Don’t speak that way about him. He is my father. You brought me up to respect your family, so I won’t stand for you disrespecting mine”

“You never even met the man, and now you choose to defend him over your own Grandfather?”

Marius shot back immediately “You say that as if I owe you loyalty simply for blood, and yet you would deny my father the same?”

“This has gone quite far enough. The matter is over and done with now at any rate. Now come downstairs and have dinner like a sensible young fellow”. Huffing dismissively and then changing the subject was a common tactic. It was Mr Gillenormand’s way to shut down an avenue of conversation if it proved to be one which would entail overly difficult questions for him or, far worse still, admitting he was wrong. Unfortunately, Marius was perceptive enough to have realised that after spending years in the same house. And, on this occasion, he was not willing to let his grandfather away with it for the sake of being agreeable.

Instead, he demanded “Why did I never see him? Did he just give me up to you without any sort of a fight?’ 

“That doesn’t matter”, the older man attempted to dismiss Marius’ questions and very uncomfortable with how this whole mess of a conversation was going. But the boy was not convinced. His grandfather didn’t outright confirm it, meaning it wasn’t true but he didn’t want Marius to know what had actually happened.

“Tell me”

“I couldn’t run the risk that people would find out about his parentage, for your sake and for the rest of the family. I had to think of all of us Marius. And so I had to tell him that your mother’s inheritance would only pass to you if you were left here with me. That it could only pass to a properly pureblooded wizard, not the mongrel son of a mudblood. I knew he would never have been able to raise you on his salary, and it was for the best”. Gillenormand seemed almost proud of his effective plan.

Marius may have been innocent of much of his grandfather’s prejudice but even he knew that mudblood was not a term used in polite society.

“You are the one who blackmailed him, who judged him based on nothing more than his birth and who speaks of the value of family while depriving me of mine. And you dare call him names like that?!”

His emotions were so heightened that his magic was beginning to manifest itself. Rage and grief and betrayal soon had precious china vases and little enchanted porcelain ornaments flying into the air and crashing into walls, or just shattering outright on their shelves.

“I had your best interests at heart Marius”, his grandfather pleaded, distressed at the destruction at least, and trying to calm the young wizard down.

Teeth clenched so hard it felt like they might shatter just like the ornaments on the room’s shelves had, and eyes burning with righteous fury, Marius was only able to hiss in response to this. “How, precisely, is it in my best interests to be separated from my own father?”

“Here, you could have everything befitting someone of good wizarding background…”

“Everything except a father” came the shouted interruption. “You had no right to do this!”

Marius ran out of the study and up the stairs to his bedroom, the door of which was locked in short order. His grandfather heard nothing further from him that night and, in the morning, he was greeted with Nicolette bearing a note with the following message:

“I am in mourning for my father. Kindly do not disturb me further. I have nothing more to say to you.” The note was signed “The mongrel son of a mudblood”.

Over the weeks that followed the dramatic discovery of his father’s fate, Marius and Monsieur Gillenormand had reached an impasse. Marius refused to speak and his grandfather, certain the pressure of starting school would crack him soon, stuck to his position. He loudly grumbled to his manservant Basque that it would be a relief to not have a truculent child around the house, hoping to shame his grandson into regretting his behaviour and begging for forgiveness. Rather than the promised occasion of a trip to Diagon Alley to purchase his school supplies, Marius found them ordered by post, with the exception of robes and wand, for both of which wizards came to the house to measure him for. The message was clear – if he would not speak to his grandfather, he would speak to no one and would have no privileges extended to him in the meantime. As for Marius, he had kept the scrap of newspaper on his person at all times and had dressed in formal deep mourning at all times. He had requested that Nicolette deliver meals to his room, refusing to even share a meal with his grandfather. In short, stubbornness was a family trait that Marius certainly did not inherit from his father’s line.

This stubbornness on the parts of both extended all the way to the first of September, when they finally found themselves on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, with the gleaming red steam engine ready to depart for Hogwarts. His trunk safely loaded on, Marius was stepping on to the train when a voice behind him instinctively caused him to turn.

“Goodbye Marius”.

Obstinate silence greeted this attempt at a cordial parting.

Grandfather’s jaw tensed under his short white beard, the fact that Marius still continued his misbehaviour even under these circumstances made it difficult to ignore. Gathering himself, he offered a censorious comment, before striding off once more with his cane. “I hope that by the holidays you have forgotten some of your silly notions and have learned to behave civilly towards your own kin”

It took a manful effort for Marius not to break his silence and laugh at his grandfather for the irony of reminding him he had an obligation to his family. It was obligation to family that had kept him silent, and he had no intention of letting his father down, both when it came to dealing with his grandfather and in the new chapter of his life upon which he was about to embark. Hogwarts was the making of a good wizard it was often said, and he was adamant that he would do his best in the next seven years to develop his magical skills and become a wizard that would make his father proud. And the little remark about “his own kin” was a definite reminder to make sure of that.


	2. Broadening Horizons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to finishing Chapter 2! Only took 3 years apparently. Usual disclaimers apply, concrit welcome.

As the train departed from the station, leaving his grandfather behind in a cloud of steam that billowed from the engines, Marius took a deep breath as he refocused his attentions from expressing his disgust with Mr Gillenormand to the business of starting school. He was on his own at last. He had been expending so much of his energy on being as difficult at home as he possibly could, that he had not given as much consideration as he otherwise might have to the fact that he was suddenly on his own amongst a few hundred strangers who were to become his schoolmates. Yes, it would be fantastic to be able to control his magic at last, to be able to weave the spells he saw his grandfather using without a second thought, but the idea of suddenly being surrounded by nothing but unfamiliar faces was a nervous one for the young boy, who had grown up largely within the Gillenormand family home and around those who had known him from babyhood. 

Still, Marius was not going to be able to stand here in the corridor of the train for the whole journey of course, so he had better go and find a place to sit and get to know some of his fellow students. A prospect that filled him with no small amount of trepidation. He had not interacted socially with many other children before, with the notable exception of his older cousin Theodule. Theodule’s mother – Marius’ aunt – as well as Mr Gillenormand, thought the boy was wonderful. Marius privately thought he was an insufferable idiot. He would be at Hogwarts too, a fact Marius could hardly forget when last summer’s major news had been the seemingly never-ending celebrations sparked by Theodule winning a place on his house quidditch team. Not to mention his cousin’s smugness upon receiving a new broom and lots of gifts in his house colours of black and yellow.

Theodule was going into his fourth year at school and Marius hoped that their paths would not cross often. They wouldn’t have classes together at least, but hopefully they would also be in different houses. Marius understood that students spent most of their free time in the house they were assigned to based on their personalities. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than being in a house full of people like Theodule. That is, unless it was the horrid realisation that being placed there meant he had been judged as having a personality that resembled Theodule. Better to avoid him as far as possible, Marius resolved. And that, in the first instance, meant finding others with whom to pass the journey to school.

He began to move along the corridor of the magical steam train, trying to glance into carriages and assess their occupants as he went without looking as though he were obviously peering. Better not to seem strange or impolite before he’d even started school. As he went, he passed by groups of older students, laughing and joking as they were reunited after the long summer holidays, all seeming perfectly at home in this situation, unlike him. Rather than setting him at ease, seeing so many people appearing to be quite at home in the situation only made Marius more fearful that he would never be able to be so comfortable around these strangers. Eventually, he came to a carriage with only two other boys inside, both of whom looked to be around his age. The fair-haired half of the duo was lightly drumming his fingers on the window ledge, gazing out of the glass as they pulled out of the station. The other was a thoughtful looking boy with chestnut hair and round glasses, who seemed to be emptying the contents of his bag out, pulling out what looked like sandwiches and several books in an attempt to find something at the bottom of the pile. They didn’t appear overly terrifying and so, summoning his resolve, Marius slid open the carriage door. “Excuse me, would you mind if I….?” he trailed off, feeling suddenly shy under the stare of the blonde boy who turned his attention from the window to the new arrival.

“Of course, come and sit down” the boy with glasses replied, moving some of his books from the seat to make a place for the new arrival to sit down. “Another first year?”

“Yes. I’m Marius. Marius Pontmercy”, giving his surname a proud bit of emphasis. It didn’t seem to elicit any reaction. Perhaps these boys were not as knowledgeable of current affairs to have heard of his father and be impressed at the name.

“I’m Combeferre. This is Enjolras” the first boy said, nodding to the blonde, who responded with a “Nice to meet you Pontmercy”. After a moment’s confusion, Marius nodded in response, realising he had forgotten that male students at Hogwarts were usually referred to by surname. Very well then, being known by his heroic father’s name felt a lot more like something he could be proud of than “Gillenormand’s grandson”.

“Travelling on your own?” Enjolras enquired, breaking the mildly awkward silence with an attempt at small talk.

“Yes” Marius replied nervously, trying to stamp down on the blush he felt coming on, a common occurrence on occasions he had to talk to anyone with whom he was unfamiliar. “My cousin is a fourth year but…” He paused for a moment, realising that he did not know these boys and it might be better not to badmouth his cousin if there was a chance it could get back to him. “He has lots of friends I’m sure he would rather be spending time with, and I thought it might be better to find others who I would be sharing classes with. And you?” he remembered to ask. 

Nodding towards his companion, Combeferre explained “Enjolras and I are neighbours, so we have known each other for our entire lives really. It’s nice to know that there will be someone familiar around, but I’m sure we’ll get to know everyone else soon enough” a friendly and encouraging smile on his face in an attempt to reassure the evidently nervous Marius.

The door opened once more to reveal another boy of their age, attired in scruffy clothes: trousers that were ragged at the bottom, a shirt that may once have been white in a previous life and a jacket that was well patched and seemed too small for the boy wearing it. Unlike Marius, he made no comment to the others, no request to join them, and merely plopped himself down on the seat in the corner by the door without a word. Eyebrows were raised by the three occupants of the carriage at the manners of the newcomer. Eventually noting the attention he was getting from the other occupants of the carriage, he stared back at the other boys defiantly, before commenting in an insolent tone, “Afternoon.”

Before the moment of stunned silence that greeted this boldness was over, the carriage door was pulled open yet again to reveal a grinning boy of their own age with dark blonde hair and slightly chubby cheeks, with yet another boy at his shoulder.

“Oh fabulous! You have a couple of spare seats and you look like first years! Mind if we join you chaps?”

Before Combeferre or Enjolras could reply, the scruffy newcomer butted in immediately, telling him “No reserved seats they said, so sit anywhere you like mate.”

Enjolras let out a sigh through clenched teeth at the lack of manners demonstrated by this new classmate. Not that they would have said no, of course, but it was the principle of the matter! One didn’t just invite oneself, and then encourage others to join! His feelings were obviously shared by Combeferre, as his old friend moved the remainder of his belongings with weary resignation before catching Enjolras’ eyes only to roll his own, evidently mourning the loss of an opportunity for a quiet chat and time with his book. 

As the carriage filled up with the new arrivals, the grinning newcomer introduced himself as Courfeyrac. Marius, recognising the name, queried “As in “de Courfeyrac”?”

“Do drop the particle dear fellow. It’s dreadfully unfashionable nowadays!” At the mention of the well-known name and the confirmation that Courfeyrac was from such a prominent family even without him explicitly saying so, a few eyebrows were surreptitiously raised in the carriage. Despite the upheavals of the past few decades, family name and connections still counted for a lot in the wizarding world.

And with such connections, it was not surprising that young Courfeyrac was able to take in Enjolras’ pale skin and flaxen hair and deduce “A Malfoy from the looks of it?”

“Merely a relation.”

The quirked eyebrow of Courfeyrac indicated that he would not be contented without the full story.

“Enjolras” The young man so named decided that it was not worth starting off on the wrong foot with a classmate, even if he had wanted to avoid being immediately judged on his name. It would be found out soon in any case even if he refused to give it.

“Ah yes! Your father…”

“Is not attending Hogwarts” the blonde smoothly finished.

Rather than see it as a snub, Courfeyrac appeared to understand the sentiment, his casual smirk breaking into a wide grin. “Good fellow! I’d say it sounds much more fun to make one’s own name!”

At a glance from Courfeyrac, Combeferre introduced himself next, and then Marius, who was again to be disappointed at the lack of recognition for the name “Pontmercy”. Courfeyrac’s companion was introduced as Grantaire. With greasy-looking hair that quickly betrayed a tendency to fall over his eyes in a most unruly fashion, a large bulbous nose, and a number of pimples pockmarking his face, he was hardly a subject fit for immortalising in portrait form. Despite this, he seemed an amiable enough fellow.

When Courfeyrac asked, the scruffy looking boy with the bad manners answered to the name of Feuilly. “You won’t have heard of any family of mine, if I even had one. I’m not one of your magic folk” he informed them sharply.

“You’re a muggle born then?”

“That’s what they called it. I never heard of a muggle before the guy in the robes showed up, telling me all sorts of queer things.”

“How marvellous!” 

Feuilly assumed a defensive expression, unsure if Courfeyrac’s apparently boundless enthusiasm was a sarcastic jest at his expense. “I intend to do just fine at this fancy school of yours, no matter what your lot call me,” he responded.

“Well don’t worry dear chap! You’ve got a whole carriage of wizards at your disposal to make sure of that” Courfeyrac proclaimed, slapping Feuilly on the back with a little too much exuberance before glancing around the carriage as a thought struck him with a similar amount of force. “We are all purebloods I take it?”

Grantaire nodded. Marius made a non-committal noise, unsure of precisely how much of his situation to explain to strangers, friendly though they seemed. Combeferre also paused before answering. “I’m not. Just a half-blood”, he offered after a moment. 

“Which world were you brought up in?”

“Oh, the wizarding one.” 

Courfeyrac evidently thought it best to press on, commenting “Ah, then you’ll know everything just the same!” before turning to the one who had yet to speak. “And Enjolras is a pureblood of course!” 

Enjolras’ lips were pursed, his expression severe. “I don’t see why it matters” he replied, in a chilly tone. “I think everyone should be treated the same, regardless of whether they are pureblooded or not.”

Courfeyrac scoffed in response. “You can’t treat people the same!”

“And why not?” The blonde boy’s eyes narrowed immediately in the manner of one who is accustomed to arguing every point.

“Not if you want them to be equal, which is what I assume you are driving at here?”

Enjolras paused, not used to someone apparently agreeing with his aims but not his proposed methods, allowing Courfeyrac to hold forth with his own theory. “Some people come to the table with existing advantages. It’s just like quidditch!”

Rather flabbergasted by the sudden turn the conversation had taken, Enjolras could only question the relevance of a frivolous sporting pursuit to discussions of societal hierarchy with a slightly raised eyebrow. Unperturbed, Courfeyrac charged on. “You can make the rules the same, but if one team have those fancy new Cleansweep things, and the other team can’t afford those and are using ones they have enchanted themselves from old house brooms, then who’s going to win?”

A treatise on the nature of equality and equity and the inapplicability of sporting metaphors from Enjolras was only stopped by a question from Feuilly that thoroughly shook the worldview of his fellow travellers.

“What on earth is “quidditch” when it’s at home?”

All discussion of politics was halted for the moment in the interests of a far more important education, at least in the eyes of several members of the little group, as Grantaire demanded a copy of the Daily Prophet in order to introduce the muggleborn to the grand passion of young wizards everywhere.

Meanwhile, Marius felt like he had fallen into a nest of kneazles. Like many children, he had never thought to question the views with which he was presented. After all, his grandfather was a well-off, respected gentleman within the wizarding world, so why should the muggleborn inferiority Gillenormand held forth on be any less of a fact than Merlin having a beard? Not to mention how often this “fact” was reinforced. Marius had never acted on this piece of supposed truth, and knew better than to use the word mudblood even if his grandfather did not, but he had never challenged it until it transpired that his now beloved father belonged to the class of muggleborn wizards.

From the discussion of quidditch, Feuilly continued to flick through the pages, articles sparking questions about the wizarding world in a manner that demanded answers. Courfeyrac made an attempt to be helpful and explain things for Feuilly, who was a little more mellow now that he was dealing with something genuinely new to him, and who was asking several very intelligent questions.

Finding an article on the subject of Auror redundancies, he demanded “Why is that an issue? If you’re not fighting a war, which I assume the newspaper would have mentioned by now if you were, why do you need magic soldiers?”

“Aurors aren’t quite magic soldiers as such.” Courfeyrac tried to explain before getting utterly side-tracked with stories of the sort of heroic derring-do he believed Aurors got up to on a regular basis.

Combeferre took over the explanations at this point. “To answer your original question, they are trying to reduce the more military side of the Ministry. There was a big policy of aggressive expansion and centralisation of the wizarding world under the former Minister. Old Boney aimed to bring all of wizarding Europe under one banner, one government, and damned be any wizard or muggle who got in his way”, referring disparagingly to Bonaparte, former Minister of Magic.

“Boney perhaps, but no spine” Enjolras opined.

Marius had quietly listened to most of the conversation up to this point with merely the occasional polite noise of agreement of the sort he had learned to master around his grandfather long ago. However, these last comments aroused his attention and his pride. After having read in the Prophet article that his father had been a part of the Bonaparte Ministry, Marius had spent several days researching the former leader of the wizarding community, reasoning that if his hero father had supported such a wizard, he must have been great indeed. His research had led him to transferring a little of the hero worship from his father to the controversial leader.

He began quietly “I don’t see why you mock him in that way”. Seeing that the eyes of the group were now alighting on him after his comment, Marius continued. “Who do you admire, if not Minister Bonaparte? You speak of wanting equality beyond that of blood, yet do not approve of the one man who tried to change the structure of society? Who not only allowed muggleborns to rise in his service, but took on the pureblood hierarchies of all of Europe? If you do not like that great wizard, what great wizards would you have? He was everything, he was complete!”

Enjolras replied without a glance at Marius, “A great wizarding society does not need to oppress muggles or conquer nations in order to enact change.”

“I do not enjoy the oppression of anyone, but look at what he achieved! All at once, frightened Europe lent an ear, armies put themselves in motion, parks of aurors rumbled, clouds of centaurs galloped in the storm, cries, trumpets, a thrumming of wands in every direction, the frontiers of kingdoms oscillated on the map, the sound of a superhuman incantation was heard, as it was drawn from its wand; they beheld him, him, rise erect on the horizon with a spell in his hand, and a glow in his eyes, unfolding amid the thunder, and he was the archmage of war!"

The other boys said nothing in response to this martial rhetoric. Combeferre caught the eye of first Courfeyrac, then Enjolras, the latter of whom simply bowed his head. Marius took their silence for agreement and carried on with increased enthusiasm, almost without pausing for breath.

"Let us be just, my friends! What a splendid destiny for a country to be the purview of such a Minister, when that nation is ours and when it adds its own genius to the genius of that man! We are heading to a place where we too can learn what he did and prepare for greatness after his fashion, a place where only those destined for greatness may receive admission. We were born with powers of which others can only dream, or more likely stand in awe as we challenge and defeat anyone and anything that stands in our way. We too can reach the grand heights to which Bonaparte ascended. He conquered half the world through might and magic. He gave wizards something to be proud of, and after all, what greater thing is there than to be a wizard?”

Marius finished with a flourish, banging his fist on the table for emphasis, as if challenging any of them to argue with this incontestable truth.

All was quiet for a moment.

And then, Combeferre spoke up quietly.

“To be human.”

Those three simple words may as well have Stupefied Marius. Nevertheless, the conversation continued without him as Courfeyrac nodded his agreement with Combeferre’s point. “What use are the glories of war if you bring misery and death to people, especially people who don’t even know magic exists. We’re not really any better than muggles. If we could share our knowledge, Statute of Secrecy be damned, the quidditch field would be a lot more even”.

“In fact,” Enjolras continued, ignoring Courfeyrac’s apparent obsession with relating everything back to quidditch, “the reason we go to school like this is as much for the protection of those around us as ourselves. Untrained magic can be very destructive in the wrong circumstances. It has nothing to do with any sort of innate superiority, that’s the sort of false nonsense that the statute’s artificial division has fostered”.

“Indeed.” Combeferre stuck his wand in again at this point. “A lot of the pureblood superiority tosh stems from similar myths. Inbreeding within a small community can cause all sorts of problems, squibs not being the least of them. A muggle called Darwin wrote a particularly interesting book recently…”

Before he could explain any further on the naturalist’s theories of adaption however, he was interrupted by Courfeyrac. “Your father lets you read Muggle books?!”

Combeferre looked up, expecting a censorious comment to follow. He had forgotten for a moment, with the easy flow of conversation on challenging topics, that he was not in his room at home with only his best friend to hear his controversial exploits and ideas. Enjolras also tensed, ready to leap to his friend’s defence. They needn’t have worried.

“What ripping fun! You simply must share it with me! My father would never let me near something like that!” 

Courfeyrac’s love of the forbidden eased the tension that had threatened to build, though Marius still felt he had to use every scrap of will to stop himself from running out of the carriage. Soon after, further distraction from his blushes provided itself with Combeferre suggesting that they must be getting close and that they should put on their robes and get their belongings together. The boys took his advice and scrambled into their school uniforms, Grantaire assisting Feuilly with the unfamiliar wizarding clothing, and by the time their books, food and other assorted detritus of travel were packed away, they were pulling into Hogsmeade station.

The students streamed out of the train carriages and on to the platform. An elderly gentleman, roared repeatedly “First years! All first years this way!” interrupted continuously by his attempts to greet the many students who passed him shouting “Hello again Mr Fauchlevent!”

Separated in the crowd from the boys he had met on the train, Marius was bundled in to one of the boats with three other first years and set off across the lake. His embarrassment on the train was pushed into the background of his mind as the boat rounded a corner and Marius got his first view of the castle that was to become his new home. Stunning the chattering first years around him into silence, the majestic castle reminded him of all the possibilities that now lay before him. It may not have had the ideal start but Marius resolved in that moment that today marked a new chapter in his life. A chance to prove his grandfather wrong, and a chance to live up to his father’s legacy. Most of all, it would be Marius’ chance to make his own mark on the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Hugo for the bit of the Brick paraphrased in the middle, I couldn't resist the Super Republican Smackdown!  
> Chapter 3 will be The Sorting Ceremony - no promises on when it will apparate into existence!


End file.
